These voices in my head,
They go on and on,
And never let up.
Sometimes they drive me mad.
They seem to never want to shut up.
Sometimes they remind me,
Of what I once had.
The conversations come,
Just as quickly as they go.
I can't move fast enough,
To record what they show.
Oh these voices in my head.
Have become my only lead.
Which one we may never know.
The pencil or The gun.
They speak of the times of the past.
The memories and pictures,
That are left ingrained.
All this blood,
That has left me stained.
These voices never take a break.
They speak so much,
And keep me awake.
All I want to do is rest.
I really wish,
They would talk, so much less.
Inspirelations 